


The Time Between

by celestialsucculent



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Domestic Violence, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14480088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialsucculent/pseuds/celestialsucculent
Summary: They had no idea how they had gotten in this time, and no leads for getting home. They were stuck in a time where he was dead, a time that Batman and Nightwing had never talked about, a time where the Batman and his Golden Boy had apparently been estranged enough that Batman had beaten Dick Grayson as if he were a criminal.Jason could really go for a drink.





	1. It All Begins at Haly's

It was impossible to mistake the past version of Dick Grayson with the version from their time. Sure, apparently the Dick Grayson of any time period had the weight of the world on his shoulders (the lines on his face and the bags under his eyes attested to that), but as talented as Golden Boy was, not even he could have been injured so drastically in the ten minutes he’d been gone.

This Grayson’s cast came all the way up from his toes and ended under his knee. As he shifted on his crutches, he brought his face out of the shadows of the trees into the moonlight and--yikes. The right side of his face was black and blue, and Jason was sure that whoever had punched him had gotten awfully close to breaking his jaw. 

Not that he didn’t sympathize with the urge to punch Grayson in the face. 

Jason had been in a bad enough mood when he had woken up in the forest with no memory of how he had gotten there hours earlier. That mood had only worsened when he realized who was keeping him company on the hard dirt ground. Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin had been brought along for the ride. Lovely. 

After the usual bickering, they had made out the sounds of a crowd in the distance. A temporary truce was established in exchange for investigating the source. Leaning out of the woods, they had caught sight of a circus. Haly’s Circus. 

Nightwing immediately took control of their rag-tag group at the sight of it. Apparently that particular tent of Halys was no longer in use, or rather, it couldn’t be used thanks to some fire. Jason didn’t really understand how this red and white tent was different from the other red and white tent, but whatever. He had gotten the gist.   

Based on the tent, Nightwing believed that they had somehow traveled to the past. It was a hell of a jump in logic, and Damian had not hesitated to tell Nightwing so, but Goldie was usually right about things when his precious circus was involved. 

Jason’s real concern was how they’d gotten here at all. Even if they hadn’t time traveled, someone had managed to catch all four of them off guard and plop them in the middle of nowhere, which was quite the feat. 

Jason wished he could remember.   

Nightwing had insisted that he scout out the circus solo, leaving Damian and Jason in a literal ditch in the woods while he went gallivanting off on his former circus stomping grounds. Tim had gotten to scout out the place too for a way to figure out what the date was, since their tech wasn’t cooperating.

It was supposedly because Dick and Tim knew the area better, Dick from growing up there and Tim thanks to his stalker-ish tendencies, but Jason knew the real reason he wasn’t able to scout the place out was because he was“too unpredictable.” Lovely. Even when he abided by the no-kill rule he wasn’t trusted. 

The headache that he had gotten from whatever had brought them here had only worsened thanks to the presence of these assholes. He was stuck with Damian as a babysitter for pete’s sake. He could admire the kids moxy from a distance, but actually having to spend time with the kid’s prissiness? A pain in the ass. 

It was annoying to be playing by the rules to begin with, but Nightwing’s word was law if Jason didn’t want to slow things down. He had a drug bust to get to in a couple hours (or was it a couple years now?) so he figured it was best to just go along with the nonsense (his headache contributed to that decision).

Yet, look where Golden Boy’s guidance had gotten them.

The future-Grayson’s solo search for his younger self had obviously failed, and past-Grayson had somehow spotted them. Now Jason was stuck with the job of explaining their situation, which he did not appreciate. Not to mention the demon brat kept shooting him distrusting, ugly looks. At least he had gotten confirmation that they were actually in the past, he supposed. 

Past-Grayson coughed, and Jason shook off his thoughts to focus back on him. Right, now wasn’t the time to be daydreaming. He took the opportunity to look the circus boy over more closely. Grayson was a couple inches shorter than last Jason had seen him, and he was in civilian garb—jeans and a white t-shirt with a suspicious stain on the sleeve. He leaned over the edge of the ditch all smiles.

“Who do we have here?” Grayson scanned over their motley crew as thoroughly as they were scanning him, his posture deceptively relaxed. They had all seen how quickly Nightwing could burst into motion too many times to be fooled, and he had the higher ground. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Red Robin approach the tense group from the shadows of the woods, a newspaper in hand. Had he lead Grayson to them? Sloppy, Red Robin was more skilled than that. 

Irritation with the mistake won out over satisfaction at being able to know the date, and Jason scowled at the bird. Damian did too, never one to miss out at showing his disapproval of Tim. It was a wonder Tim didn’t spontaneously combust. 

Grayson pretended not to notice the tension and smiled even wider. Jason was almost impressed. How the heck was he smiling at all when his jaw looked like Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night? 

“You're awful quiet. Ah! I know,” he nodded empathetically, “You want to join the circus! Sorry, we aren’t picking up runaways, even if they’re wearing circus costumes,” Damian bristled at that, and Jason slapped a hand over his mouth with an eye roll. 

Dick continued, “You can still watch the show tonight if you want.”

He took one of his hands off his crutches to toss it back lazily towards the big top in the distance. Jason could smell the cotton candy and popcorn from here—damn he was hungry. If he’d been allowed to scout, he would have done a lot better than Tim, that’s for sure. He would have gotten food.

“We’re not here to join the circus…even though we may look a little strange. It’s an interesting story really,” Tim said, grimacing through the cowl at the weak explanation. Tim must be trying to stall for Nightwing, as his presence would be irrefutable proof that they were from the future, but it was likely the idiot would be gone for quite a while.

Dick cocked his head, “Interesting stories are the best kind to tell. With you all wearing such fascinating outfits, well…” Grayson was still smiling but his eyes were turning cold, “This story I’ve got to hear.”

It was clear Dick Grayson wasn’t going to play the happy fool for much longer. Jason had seen him looking at the big bat insignias on their uniforms—there was no easy explanation for that. He wasn’t going to pacified by less than the truth.

Grayson’s eyes settled on the yellow R emblazoned on the demon brat’s chest, and the fake smile dripped off his face like melting wax, leaving something unpleasant in its place. 

“Well?” Grayson snapped. Damian shifted uncertainly under the scrutiny, but he quickly recovered, crossing his arms and glaring. The kid didn’t respond (didn't quite seem to know how) and the tension thickened so much that Jason could almost feel the angst settling on his shoulders. The shadows twisted on the ground as the moonlight fell through waving leaves. There was silence. 

Red Robin moved forward, trying to remove Dick’s focus on Robin after seeing the less than delighted reception he’d gotten. Grayson’s gaze darted to the movement. He slid down into the ditch (somehow graceful even with crutches, the ass) and loomed over Tim threateningly.

Tim looked cowed with Grayson suddenly so close, but he continued anyway “We aren’t here to cause trouble—” Tim started, but too bad Jason didn’t feel like playing around anymore. He was just going to bite the bullet.

“The name’s Red Hood. We’re from the future,  _ Nightwing, _ ” Jason drawled, putting emphasis on the code name, “so get your head out of your ass and listen up.” 

Grayson somehow managed to look even more displeased. Tim looked over at Jason, similarly irritated, (“is it too much to ask for a little  _ finesse? _ ” he muttered) but Damian actually looked somewhat relieved. Kid didn’t like beating around the bush any more than he did.

Then Grayson growled, all fake congeniality forgotten, and Damian and Tim jerked back slightly at the ferocity of it, all irritation and satisfaction giving way to surprise. Jason leaned closer with a sneer, hands itching towards his guns. Maybe being so blunt wasn’t such a good idea after all. Nightwing was all sarcasm and overconfident smiles until you got him angry. Jason remembered his unrestrained temper, was much more familiar with it than the other two. Sure the three of them could still take down the injured man if it came to that, but it would be messy. 

“Fine. So you know who I am. Then you should know that I’m no idiot. You expect me to believe you’re from the future? Yeah, right,” Grayson turned his gaze to Jason’s holsters accusingly, “Batman wouldn’t work with someone who uses guns, Red Hood,” He said the name sarcastically, and turned, pointing one of his crutches right in Robin’s face, “In fact, he has made it quite clear that he doesn’t work with anyone at all, especially not a  _ Robin _ .” 

The amount of bitterness in Nightwing’s voice surprised him. Perhaps this was more than temper after all? Not working with a Robin...what the hell was he talking about. 

Damian scoffed, earlier hesitance apparently buried in exchange for disdain and a pissy attitude. He shoved the offending object away, stalking forward. “Get that out of my face,  _ cripple _ . If you think you can talk to me in such a manner you’re sorely mistaken. I am  _ Robin  _ and you don’t--” but before the kid could finish, Grayson lashed out with his crutch, suddenly enough that Damian had no time to counter, and forced the kid to the ground.

“Must be pretty embarrassing being beaten by a cripple,” Grayson said, bearing his teeth, face twisting. Damian made a choked, outraged noise, anger quickly overcoming surprise, and Grayson pressed the crutch harder into the brat’s neck. “You should be a bit more careful with that attitude wearing that costume brat.”

It was an odd thing to see Tim have to get Dick off the kid instead of the other way around. It should have been amusing, but something had settled oddly in his stomach. What could have gotten Grayson so riled up? Usually he'd at least hear them out before calling bullshit. 

“Enough! Calm down! Everyone just calm down,” Tim said, arms splayed between Grayson and Damian. Tim’s grip on the newspaper was so tight Jason was sure his hands were white-knuckled under his gloves. Damian jerked himself off the ground, coiled tightly. Tim turned to Dick, “I think I know why you’re so upset and we aren’t here to rub salt in the wound, alright?” Red Robin threw the newspaper on the ground, headline up. A cloud of dirt rose and settled. Jason stared through the dust, feeling a bit numb.

 

JASON TODD, DIES IN ACCIDENT! BRUCE WAYNE IN MOURNING

 

Damian’s eyes darted to Todd before he turned away. Jason felt like turning away too, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from the paper. He heard Tim explaining things further in the background, heard Dick’s voice raised in response, but…

He hadn’t ever gotten his hands on this newspaper.

He still couldn’t seem to get his hands on this newspaper, but his eyes roved it hungrily from its place on the ground. It looked so...ordinary. He didn’t really process the words, but his eyes fell on a picture of Bruce Wayne standing in front of a casket.  _ His  _ casket. Alfred stood close behind him holding an umbrella. Were those tears on their faces or was it the rain?

“You’re not in the pictures,” Jason muttered without thinking. Grayson stiffened, and Tim’s explanation sputtered out. Jason hadn’t been listening to Red Robin at all, but apparently Goldie had been. The talk had done its job. Grayson looked a lot less skeptical, more resigned than angry now.  

The man let out a low sigh at the personal question instead of unleashing a can of whoop ass like he had with Damian. So. Progress, he supposed. Jason wondered how long he had been staring at the paper to miss such a drastic turnabout.

Grayson stooped down and picked up the newspaper, for once actually moving like an injured man. He stared at it.

“Yeah, I wasn’t there,” he said. Jason felt a jolt of surprise.

“What?” Tim spluttered, “How?” Damian raised an eyebrow under his mask.

“I suppose I wasn’t there because I wasn’t told,” the newspaper creased in Dick’s hands. Then he slowly released it and let it flutter back to the ground.

“You didn’t know that he had…” Jason hesitated, finally picked up the paper, smoothed it, then continued, “…that he had died?” He couldn’t seem to figure out how that would work. 

“No. Bruce didn’t tell me,” Dick said. His face scrunched up. It seemed like he was trying to be angry, but he just looked like he was holding back tears. His eyes burned into Jason. Then, he looked away and cleared his throat.

Tim reached out to comfort Grayson but he stalled halfway there, holding his hands awkwardly out in the air. Damian looked uncomfortable and Tim’s hands dropped uselessly to his sides. Jason busied himself with the newspaper and willed his hands not to shake.

He felt dangerously close to tears himself, as ridiculous as that sounded. He’d gotten over his death a long time ago, but his brain apparently hadn’t gotten the message. His thoughts went a mile a minute. He could almost feel the hard wood of the inside of his coffin under his hands, could feel the dirt pressing against him. He couldn’t breathe—later, later, later. But Dick wasn’t there at his funeral, hadn’t known that he had died. Why had that bastard—? Later, later, later. He could deal with that all later. He straightened.

“We didn’t come here for a drama performance,” Jason said harshly. Somehow his voice didn’t shake as he continued, “We don’t care about your problems, just direct us to a way back to our own time and we’ll be thrilled to get out of your hair.”  

Dick glared at him, but said, “Fine. The Justice League should have the technology—magic or otherwise—to get you all to your proper time, your proper universe,” he waved a hand through the air, “whatever this is. I can contact them and explain things, give you some credibility.”

“What about Batman?” Damian asked crossly, “Aren’t we going to need to ask for Father’s help in this instance?”

“Father—?” Dick wheezed. He held a hand to his chest.

Tim cut off Dick’s impending heart attack, “Even if we don’t need Batman’s help, to get help from the Justice League we will need to convince them of our identities. They are going to call in Batman to help verify who we are. It is inevitable. It may be easier to go to straight to Bats before getting help from the League…” Red Robin sounded contemplative, but he was eyeing Grayson nervously. 

“No way,” Jason said.

“I agree with Red here,” Dick said. Damn, had they actually been transported to the twilight zone? Damian and Tim agreeing?  _ Him and Dick agreeing? _ This could be the apocalypse.

“And why, exactly, is that?” Damian snapped, still clearly angry about earlier.

“Batman is not in a helpful or understanding mood. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t just attack you,” Dick said, unconsciously rubbing at his jaw, “…It’ll be easier to convince pigs to fly then to convince Batman that you’re his sidekicks from the future.”

Jason snorted. “Well, I was mostly talking about Bruce being an ass,” he said. There certainly weren’t any ulterior motives behind him not wanting to go see Bruce. Nope. 

Tim didn’t look similarly amused though, staring at Dick’s face with a strangely focused expression. Jason could see the cogs turning in the kids head. His eyebrows scrunched together. “Attack us?” Tim muttered. The way Dick had worded it...his hurt expression...the fact that he was at the circus at all, the place he retreated for comfort and familiarity...It all clicked for Red Robin. Tim’s expression hardened. 

“Did he do that to you?” Tim said, gesturing at Grayson. He meant the bruising, Jason realized, maybe even the leg.  

Damian jerked back like he’d been burned, “He couldn’t possibly...” He shook his head in disbelief. 

But Dick’s hand had stilled. In the dim light, with those big baby blues and that hurt that he couldn’t quite hide, he looked like a kicked puppy.

“Even if you are from the future, it really isn’t your business,” he said thickly. Grayson whipped around “ I won’t be helping you if Batman’s involved.”

Tim frowned, eyebrows drawn together, “We need Nightwing’s help—”

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve already got a Nightwing on the case,” Dick said sharply, already climbing back up to the top of the trench.

“Just, wait a second Grayson!” Damian commanded, “Are you--” Dick ignored him.

“I’ll send your Nightwing this way if I see him. I’d say see you later, but I really don’t want to,” Dick said. Jason couldn't see his face, but the curve of his back looked defeated. 

Dick Grayson was gone, swallowed by the shadows of the forest. 

“Well that went well,” Tim said, pulling his cape more tightly around himself. Damian made a frustrated sound. 

“This is all your fault!” Damian seethed, glaring at Tim, “He was willing to help us until you opened your mouth. You always stick your nose where you don’t belong.” He drew his katana and Tim stepped back a few steps, extending his bow staff as he did. 

“Don’t even think about it, brat,” Tim said flatly, eyeing the blade. Damian hefted his katana backwards, and readied himself to strike. 

Jason tsked, stepping between the two. “I wonder what Nightwing would think if he could see you now. Though maybe he wouldn’t be surprised. Just follow Batman’s example and aim for the head and the legs...” 

Damian made a wounded noise and stalked off, already slicing up trees. Tim stared at the ground, bo staff held loosely in his hands. 

The newspaper seemed to burn in Jason’s pocket. They had no idea how they had gotten in this time, and no leads for getting home. They were stuck in a time where he was dead, a time that Batman and Nightwing had never talked about, a time where the Batman and his Golden Boy had apparently been estranged enough that Batman had beaten Dick Grayson as if he were a criminal. 

“Yeah that’s what I thought.”

Jason could really go for a drink. 


	2. Avoidance

Damian stared at his katana and sighed. He’d dulled the blade on shrubbery; it wasn’t a worthy use of the weapon. 

_ I'd watch the attitude. Brat.  _

Damian whipped the katana in a wide arch anyway. The branch fell with a thud, echoing loudly in the stillness of the forest. 

Damian had come to expect harsh words. From Jason and Tim, certainly, such behavior was almost anticipated, and even his father had doubted him many times. But never his Batman. Grayson was different from the rest, or at least, Damian had thought so. But maybe that was a foolish thought. He couldn’t seem to get the younger Grayson’s glare from his mind. 

Damian took a deep breath, readied his blade, and dashed forward. He pushed off a trunk and flew into the air. With minute flicks of the wrist, he severed the branches that got in his path mid flight. They joined the scattered debris on the ground with a clatter. Damian landed in a crouch and prepared to strike again. 

“You trying to cut down the whole forest kiddo?” a voice said from behind him. Damian stilled. Grayson. His Grayson. Damian slid his katana into its sheath and turned. 

Damian’s eyes immediately caught on the blue bird that stretched across his brother’s chest, a bright color in the darkness of the night. He craned his head upward to look at his face. 

Grayson looked happy to see him; his smile was highlighted by the moonlight. Damian blinked rapidly. Some sweat must have gotten in his eye. 

“Took you long enough. Did you stop to see the elephants or are you just that incompetent?” Damian said hoarsely, his relief that Grayson didn’t hate him was so immense it clogged his throat. How pathetic. Nightwing gave him a measured look, and bent down on one knee, tilting Damians head upwards gently. Damian frowned in confusion. 

“I heard what my younger self...I mean what I did earlier,” Grayson said softly, “I’m sorry. Does your throat feel okay?” 

The sad look on Grayson’s face was too similar to his younger self, and Damian rushed to chase the despondency away. 

“I’m fine. I was trained from birth, if you’ll remember. I can handle anything your younger self can dish out  _ easily _ ,” he said haughtily. 

“Oh is that so?” Grayson teased. His fingers lingered on Damian’s throat for a moment, and then they fell to his knee. “There isn’t any bruising,” he said, and the tension faded from his shoulders.

“I guess you were holding back,”  _ unlike father  _ Damian thought but didn’t say, “You likely knew not to press your luck.” 

Nightwing grinned at that and then ruffled his hair. Damian took a few seconds to appreciate the touch, and allowed the contact to melt the fear and anger he felt at the not-Grayson’s behavior. He replaced the younger Grayson’s scowl with Nightwing’s smile in his mind. Then he shoved the hand away. 

Nightwing didn’t mind. He stood fluidly, and began to walk back the way he came. “Come on, Little D. The others are waiting!” 

Damian wished it could be just the two of them for a little longer, but he followed. 

“Done with your tantrum little bird?” Jason called mockingly as they approached. The moonlight glinted off his helmet as he cocked his head. Tim looked up from his spot at a nearby log as Damian scoffed. 

“I was not pouting. I was simply doing something productive with my time, unlike you,” he replied. Todd had moved all of three steps to lean against a tree since the younger Grayson’s departure. He was drumming a cigarette against his leg, but he hadn’t even lighted it. 

Tim stood up stiffly and walked towards them, “You said you met with your younger self. Mind letting us in on the plan now?” 

“Relax, Timmy,” Nightwing said reaching towards his belt, “Yes, I ran into my younger self on my way back here. I managed to talk him into giving up his access codes to the Watchtower and to the Batcave. I even sweet talked him into giving me his car,” Nightwing grinned cheekily, but Red Robin was still frowning. 

“What about--?” 

“Clothes?” Nightwing finished, “Mini me is gathering civilian clothes for us. They should be ready by the morning.” 

Red Robin huffed, “Will you stop cutting me off? Jesus Dick, really living up to your name, huh?” Tim shook his head, but he couldn’t quite hide the half-smile on his lips, “Actually, I was wondering where we were going to stay for tonight?” 

Crickets. Nightwing blinked, and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Grayson, you have got to be kidding,” Damian deadpanned. 

“Hey!” Nightwing protested, holding his hands up defensively, “It’s not like you guys left me much to work with! Asking for favors was pretty difficult when your charming personalities put him in such a bad mood!” 

“But we didn’t put him in a bad mood,” Jason spoke up for the first time, pushing off the trunk to actually join their group, “He was already beat to hell before he got here. Care to explain where exactly those injuries came from?” 

Grayson looked surprised, but then he smiled, “Aw, I didn't know you cared Jay. That's hardly relevant to getting back home.” Jason shook his head, and Damian could tell he was sneering even through the mask. 

“Don’t play coy,” Jason drawled, flicking his unused cigarette to the side. His voice was unyielding when he said, “A broken leg doesn’t just happen, not to you.”

“Wow, asking about my health and complimenting me all on the same day. Are we sure there aren’t any side effects to time travel?” Nightwing said, sharing a look with Red Robin.

Tim sighed, “How about you just answer the question before Jason erupts?” He couldn’t quite hide that he wanted to know the answer too. The half circle they had formed around Nightwing was looked less like a group meeting up and more like a tribunal. 

“Is this an interrogation?” Nightwing complained. No one disagreed, “How come the one time you all decide to work together, you have to team up against me?”

They stared at him, and he caved, “It wasn’t anything much. Offworld mission with the Titans. The ship exploded, and I got a broken leg out of the deal. Simple as that.” 

“Simple as that, huh?” Jason challenged, “I seem to remember another injury right on your face...looked like the imprint of a fist to me. That ship you crashed happen to punch you?” 

Nightwing gave Jason a calculated look. The fact that Nightwing’s face was half-cloaked in shadow made the expression look fiercer than it was probably meant to be. “You already know how that happened. You wouldn’t be asking so insistently about it otherwise. So why do you need me to spell it out for you?” 

Damian’s mouth felt dry,“So it was Batman after all.” 

Something settled oddly in his stomach. Damian had been in awe of his father for...a long time. Batman was put on a pedestal by the stories his mother had told; he was the only goal that mattered. Where his mother had only punished and criticized him, she had done nothing but sing his father’s praises. He’d thought that maybe if he could work with his father, become like him, maybe even become him, he could gain his mother’s…love. 

Well, that hardly mattered now. 

The starstruck boy in him had long since faded as he’d actually gotten to work with his father.. He’d gotten close enough to see the cracks and chips, the imperfections. He’d enjoyed getting to know his father as a person. But this...he had never expected this of him. It felt like the man he’d respected had never existed at all. 

Nightwing put a hand on his shoulder. Damian looked up and met his concerned gaze. Grayson was worried about  _ him _ ? It should be the other way around. 

“Damian, it looked worse than it was. It wasn’t a big deal--” Nightwing began, only for Jason to cut in angrily. 

“Not a big deal? Cause it seems to me that Batman decked you while you were injured for no reason at all! That’s not nothing Dick.” Damian was inclined to agree. Nightwing made a frustrated noise. 

“What went down with Batman was...complicated. And it all happened years ago. It’s done and over now. There’s no need to air out my dirty laundry.” Nightwing couldn’t seem to look any of them in the eyes. 

Tim grimaced, and put his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “But it’s not all irrelevant now, Dick. We’re in the past, and we are going to have to deal with whatever is going on.” Nightwing didn’t look convinced. 

He shrugged Red Robin off and stared daggers at the ground when he said, “No. It’s really  _ not  _ necessary.”

“Oh really? Fine then. Where are we going? The Watchtower or the Batcave?” Jason demanded. 

Nightwing blinked, head darting up at the sudden change of subject. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You said that you got the codes for both the Watchtower and the Batcave,” Jason said with mock slowness, “but you never said which place we were going. We all think that we should go to the Batcave, isn’t that right? There isn’t any problem with that, is there? Anything you want to tell us about that would make that a bad idea?” Red Hood gestured towards Red Robin, but didn’t look away from Nightwing. Tim blinked in surprise. 

“I do think we should go to Batman for help. We’re going to need his detective skills, and the League will just call him in regardless. But plans can always be changed when new information comes to light,” Tim paused, and levered an expectant expression at Nightwing as well, but he didn’t respond. Tim looked disappointed but not surprised as he continued, “Well, anyway...I’m pretty sure you were singing a different tune earlier Hood.”

Damian snorted, “You can say that again. What happened to ‘Batman’s an ass?’”

“Red Robin was just so convincing, he managed to change my mind. Any objections?” he leaned into Nightwing’s personal space challengingly. 

“No. That’s fine,” Nightwing said stiffly, almost leaning backward. 

Damian wanted to press Grayson harder, push him to the ground, shake him until he finally spilled the answers they wanted. He’d thought that Nightwing trusted them, but everything seemed so uncertain now, so ready to break into pieces. So he stayed silent. Jason seemed to realize he wasn’t going to get any answers as well.

Hood gave a noise of disgust and threw his hands into the air, “You’re impossible.” He turned abruptly and stalked deeper into the forest. “I think I’ll find some space waaaayyyy over here, if you don’t mind! Thanks to Nightwing we’ll get to sleep on rocks and tree roots, what fun!” 

“Jason…” Nightwing muttered, but he didn’t stop him. He let out a big sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oh yeah, this is going to be fun alright.” 

Clearly done with conversation for the night, Grayson settled down at the base of a tree and tried to get comfortable. Damian suddenly realized how tired he was. Thanks to this time travel debacle, they’d all been running on fumes. Damian was ready to sleep and leave this all behind him. Apparently Red Robin didn’t feel the same way. 

“I’m not tired. I’ll take first watch,” Tim said. Nightwing opened his mouth to protest, but Tim wasn’t having it. 

“Don’t even start Dick. I’m too wired to sleep and I’ll wake you in a couple hours, alright?” Tim said, turning away. Nightwing shut his mouth and pouted, but settled back on the ground. He was clearly more tired then he was letting on if that was all the protest he was going to give. Or maybe he was just hesitant to stay awake knowing the topic of conversation they’d force him to pursue.

Damian tried not to be bothered by the fact that Grayson--the main advocate for talking through your issues--refused to tell them anything but the vaguest details. Nightwing didn’t usually run away from his problems like this, Damian thought as he curled up on the ground next to the man. It didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t sit right with any of them, going by the hard curve to Tim’s shoulders and the fact that Jason wasn’t even in sight. 

All of this petty bickering...it was in vain anyway. They’d find out the extent of what the issue was soon enough. Tomorrow, they would see his father. The thought wasn’t as reassuring as before.  

He let his head rest on Nightwing’s side and shut his eyes. It was a long while before any of them were able to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to those who commented! You all are the reason I figured out what direction I wanted to take with this. Keep telling me what you want to see! 
> 
> Next time: Dick's younger self returns. The Batboys quest for information continues.


	3. Silver Lining

Dick hadn’t been having the best week.

...ok, that was an understatement. He could admit that to himself. 

Dick had fought alien armies, interdimensional demons, homicidal clowns, and, thanks to his last adventure with the Titans, even pseudo gods. He’d had injuries so severe he couldn’t move for weeks, dealt with the loss of his whole world (he could still remember the sound of them hitting the floor), and still, he’d kept surviving. But this week...it was one of the worst he could ever remember. And he was struggling with things that used to come so easy. 

Maybe it was because even when things were at their absolute worst, he could see a solution (a way out), and that glimmer of hope was enough to pull him through. But what was the silver lining in all this?? 

He’d never see Jason again. And he was just a kid. A little shit, but so bright, like a firecracker, and so full of potential. Bright-eyed and eager (“being Robin gives me magic!”) Jason was dead, and for all Dick’s trying, he couldn’t even remember the last words they had spoken. But he could remember the last words that Bruce told him all too well, for all he tried to forget, so well that he wasn’t sure he’d ever see Bruce again either, the real Bruce beyond the grimy mask of Batman. Catching sight of the father beyond the analyst treating him like a liability instead of a son was becoming more and more rare. 

The grief hung over him, heavy, and beyond it all at his very core was a feeling of guilt and rage and frustration and sorrow and--there was a hurricane of emotion so fierce and confusing that Dick didn’t want to acknowledge it at all. (And Bruce had accused him of being glad that Jason was gone. But joy? That was the one emotion Dick could guarantee he was not feeling.)

He’d thought that going to his circus could ease something in him as it had so many times before, that being enveloped in his old family’s warmth and open affection would soothe the aches he felt. He was wrong. There was too much time and too much love. Too much time to dwell, and too much love he wasn’t sure he deserved. He hadn’t wanted to bog the team down with his problems, but now he wondered if staying with the Titans would have been a better bet. There, he could’ve drowned himself in work at least.

He’d been heading back to his trailer for the night after what had felt like a  _ very  _ long day of sulking--simultaneously yearning for rest and dreading the inevitable nightmares--when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. There was a figure, a fair distance away and moving even further from him now, sticking close to the shadows of the trailers in the fading light from the sunset. If Dick squinted he could just make out some sort of cowl and a dark cape made out of a very familiar kevlar material. 

...what. 

For a moment, he thought he’d finally lost his marbles. He had to be seeing things. But no, he’d blinked and checked again, the guy was still there, though slinking out of sight with alarming speed. Dick’s heart leapt into his throat. Had Batman come to talk things out? This was unprecedented, but Dick felt like he was on cloud nine with the promise of it. 

He followed the shadow--almost stumbling with his crutches at the brutal pace Bruce was setting--and, mind racing, ducked into the forest as quietly as he could. Dick thought Bruce would stop there at the outskirts, but he just kept going deeper and deeper. 

Was he expecting a screaming match? They were already out of sight, especially as the sun disappeared entirely and the moon began to rise, but was he trying to get out of hearing range as well? Dick’s hands felt sweaty even with the cool breeze and he tried to take a deep breath. It was going to be okay. This could be a good thing. There was a clearing, and Dick stepped forwards onto the lip of the ditch and--

_There were three people_ _wearing Batman’s insignia_. 

He hadn’t been following Bruce at all, Dick thought numbly. He was such a naive idiot. Thinking that things could work out so easily after what had happened--yeah right. But he couldn’t help the way something was withering up inside him. Nor could he help the surge of disappointment and the anger that welled up at being deceived. 

The body armor, the tech those kids were wearing, it was Batman’s. The kid he’d been following--his costume was some sort of horrible mix of Batman and Robin, with the black cape and cowl paired with the familiar red tunic and yellow utility belt. Dick felt disgusted by the fusion just looking at it, so he forced his gaze onto the people waiting in the clearing. One of the guys standing there was taller and older than the other two, and the red helmet and gun holsters threw Dick for a loop, but the red bat that stretched across his chest made it clear where his allegiance lied. Then Dick caught sight of the red and yellow and green of a Robin costume, and his heart clenched. He closed his eyes.

This entire time he’d been following Bruce’s...other kids. He just couldn’t understand. Did Jason’s death mean so little? Was Bruce already creating more pawns to be sacrificed in his crusade? Or maybe these three had been working for Batman for much longer, and Dick just hadn’t known? He wasn’t sure which option hurt more. 

Once, there was a time when Bruce had shared almost everything with him. Now, Dick was an outsider. Bruce hadn’t even told him about Jason being Robin! It seemed that there were always going to be more and more secrets that Dick would be left to discover. Dick was always having to pick up the pieces after Bruce’s lies, but now he felt like he was the one about to shatter. 

Dick could almost feel the punch Batman had given him anew, could feel the burning rawness on his skin. He could hear the words (the lies). I work alone, Bruce had said. Having partners is a liability he said. These three certainly poked holes in that Bruce. Apparently, it was Dick himself who was the problem,  _ the liability _ , in Bruce’s eyes. The one to be cut out and abandoned, while these three were kept close at Bruce’s side. That son of a bitch. Dick could feel the grief that had haunted him all day being burned away by something large and ugly. 

Finally, they caught sight of him. 

His training was the only reason he was able to muster up a facade of calm as he spoke, playing the part of his civilian identity. Surely there was an explanation, he thought, almost desperately. But then, the Robin revealed himself to be so cocky (so much like Jason), and he gave Dick a little too much lip for his frayed nerves to withstand, and Dick saw red. Pushing that fake Robin to the curb felt satisfying in a way that made him feel sick afterwards. 

Cowl guy tried to calm him, give him an explanation. But that explanation being time travel did not help his mood in the slightest. A future betrayal was still a betrayal. Then, the time travelers began asking probing questions about Jason, and it was too much. Dick (ran away) was out of there. 

He wished he could still be that angry but, walking away, he just felt empty. His leg hurt, his face hurt...and his heart hurt even more. The thought was over dramatic as hell even in his head, but it was true. After this mess of a week, he was just bone tired. Those fake-Bats could handle this on their own, right?

He somehow felt even more awful with that thought. Well, things  _ surely  _ couldn’t get worse from here--

And then he tripped on a root, his crutches slipped from his hands, and he fell flat on his face. His face and leg throbbed pathetically and Dick groaned. Thinking that had practically been asking for trouble. Well, he had wanted to lie down. For a moment he just laid there and tried to find comfort in the sounds of the forest, the creaking of the branches with the wind, the crickets beginning their symphony. 

Before he could really get comfortable though, someone started poking him in the shoulder. Dick didn’t know if he could handle any more surprises, but he glanced up to see who it was.

He immediately put his face right back into the dirt. 

“Just leave me here,” he groaned.

“Wow, that’s pathetic,” his own voice answered cheerfully back. And yes, there in front of Dick, in all his blue and black glory, was himself--Nightwing. Please let this end. 

But Dick knew how stubborn he could be, and as his older self crouched down to poke his shoulders some more, Dick sighed. Looks like he was getting up after all, before he got another bruise to add to the collection. 

“Just gimme my crutches, hmmm?” he said, levering himself up. 

Nightwing scooped the crutches with a winning smile and eased them into his younger selves hands. Dick could feel his older selves eyes on him even behind the mask, how they darted about his face and lingered on the bruises. Nightwing tried to brush some of the dirt off his shoulder.  

“It’s lucky I ran into you, I was actually looking for you,” Nightwing began. Dick had to hold back a scoff. Lucky? Yeah, right. Some of that thought must have shown on his face, because Nightwing winced. 

“Ah, not in a creepy, stalker way or anything. I know you might just think I’m some imposter in your costume, but I’m just going to come out and say it: I’m actually you from the future.”  

“Stop--” he said, but his older self didn’t let him finish. 

“Hey, hear me out, alright? I can prove that I’m you--” 

Dick spoke over him, “Cut the explanations, I already met Batman’s... _ other associates _ ,” he couldn’t quite keep the note of bitterness out of his voice as he continued, “They explained the entire mess to me.” Nightwing just looked at him. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before. 

“If I’ve got the timeline right, I know how...difficult it was to see them right now. I meant to meet you before and explain things. I mean, I’d understand better than anyone how it felt to be…” Nightwing trailed off, but Dick could guess what he’d been about to say.  _ Replaced _ .  _ Forgotten _ .  _ Discarded _ . 

“Are you willing to help us?” 

Dick wanted to say no, and hated himself for it. He should help, but interacting with those kids from the future made his stomach turn, and left him lingering on things he knew he shouldn’t. He’d come to the circus to take a break from Bruce and Jason. He leaned into his crutches, and took a deep breath. 

“Fine. What do you need me to do?” 

Nightwing looked relieved, “Good. We’re going to need some tech and magic help, more than you have available. I’ll need the codes to the Watchtower and the Batcave?” 

Nightwing wanted both? Couldn’t decide whether to go to Bruce or the Justice League? Dick wondered whether that was a sign that his and Bruce’s relationship hadn’t improved in the future. How depressing. 

Dick recited the codes anyway and told him the location of the transporters for the Watchtower, since they changed every month or so for security reasons. Then, he asked, “You aren’t expecting to travel in uniform are you?” 

Nightwing snorted. “That’d make it pretty difficult to keep under the radar. Here’s what we need…”

His older self rattled off all of the clothing sizes of him and his companions and paused thoughtfully, “A hoodie would be nice if you can find one? That’s in a small if you have it. And a laptop? Some money? And your car?” Nightwing looked at him expectantly. 

Grayson blinked (was he really this presumptuous), and he opened his mouth to ask how the hell he was supposed to find all that by morning, but what came out instead was, “You know all their sizes? Just like that?” 

Nightwing looked at him strangely. “Er, yeah.” 

He felt oddly transparent all of the sudden, but he couldn’t seem to let this go. “It’s just…” and maybe it was because he was just so tired, or that this had been a rough week even before all of this time travel nonsense, or even the fact that he was essentially speaking to himself that had him saying it, “I don’t know what Jason’s size is, or the kind of stuff he’d wear. All those little things family’s know about each other--I don’t know anything. I was just getting to know him and,” Dick swallowed around the lump in his throat, “I’ll never know anything for sure now.” 

He was terrible. Maybe he hadn’t lost a family at all. Perhaps he’d never even had them in the first place. Had he made enough time to get to know Jason? If Bruce was really family, would he have fired him? Punched him? His eyes burned. He felt sick with these thoughts. 

“I was the one who gave him the Robin costume. I caused this and I couldn’t even be bothered to get to know him. I didn’t help him when he needed me and now he’s gone. He’s gone and i-it’s my fault that he’s dead! I’m--!” useless. He couldn’t even say it out loud. His eyes burned. How could he possibly make this right? 

His older self’s hands reached out to steady Dick’s shaking ones with an awkward sort of concern. The action made him jump. He had almost forgotten Nightwing was here. The hero looked hesitant, almost like he wanted to say something. Whatever it was, he swallowed it.

He said instead, “We messed things up. Made so many mistakes with Jason. We let...that stuff with Batman get in the way,” Nightwing paused, his face tight with some emotion that Dick couldn’t seem to place having seen on his face before. His older self took a deep breath, and looked Dick right in the eyes, “ I promised myself I would never let that happen again. Robin...it means family. I’m not letting anything get in the way of that, not even myself.” 

Dick thought of Jason. Overeager Jason, trying to butt into his case at Bludhaven, and Dick telling him to scram. Shy Jason begrudgingly asking him for tips on flips, and him not having the time to teach him. Next week, he’d said. But then there was dead Jason, lying in a casket six feet under, and him never having a chance to make it up to him. A lump formed in his throat. No, he didn’t want something like this to happen again. By the way Bruce had talked, he hadn’t thought he’d get a second chance to. But he would, apparently. Things could still work out. Dick clung to that hope. Maybe redemption was possible. Maybe  _ family  _ was still possible. 

But he’d already made a mistake on that path towards that goal, he remembered with a wince. 

“I was a little harsh on the...the Robin back there.” he said, wrenching his hands away from his older self guiltily. Nightwing blinked at the non sequitur. 

“Harsh?” Nightwing said immediately, “How so?”

“Well...I kind of pinned him with my crutches. Got him by the throat.” 

It didn’t get any weirder than your own face staring at you with Alfred-level disapproval. 

Dick shifted awkwardly. “Sorry,” he muttered in a quiet voice. He’d do better, he promised himself. Then he cleared his throat, “I’ll get you the stuff you need, and drive the car down by where the road meets the woods in the morning. We can meet there, and you can take the car to get to where you need to.” 

Nightwing’s look wasn’t any less intense with the apology. After a few moments, his future self finally looked away into the woods, and Dick could breathe again. Geeze, was this how criminals felt when he stared them down or had his own out-of-whack emotions made that unbearable? 

“I assume you won’t be coming with us?” 

Dick’s mouth was dry. Seeing Bruce again? “No.” 

“Alright,” Nightwing nodded, almost sounding disappointed. No pressing questions from someone who knew the whole story, but he felt a whole new type of awkwardness and guilt from this conversation. 

Nightwing turned away, “We’ll see you in the morning.” 

Dick let him leave. He took a moment to steady himself and wipe away the tears lingering in his eyes. He couldn’t afford any more pity parties. For the first time in what felt like a long time, he felt determined. He had a lot of things to gather, and a lot of things to think about. His cheek was still throbbing, but he’d found his silver lining. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to those who commented! Your encouragement and ideas are really helping me out. Sorry to keep you all waiting, but I really had to figure out where I wanted to take the plot and how I wanted to set this all up. I think I've got something of a handle on it now. Sorry to those of you who wanted to see some action with Bruce! He's likely to appear next chapter at least a little, because next time, the boys are finally heading to the manor. 
> 
> People have expressed having some interest in seeing the league in this fic, and though I am going to keep things mostly Batfam-centric, at least a couple of members are likely to appear. If you want to see specific superheroes outside of the Batfam (or even in it idk), let me know who they are, and your thoughts could inspire me to think up how they could factor into all this. Thanks again to all!


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